Chapter Twenty-Two
Before he could react to her astounding bravery, four men rushed into the garden.
Phin recognized them immediately as Iago’s and he lowered his knife as they converged upon the attacker who’d just risen to his feet.
“Take him to my house. Keep him alive but well-secured,” he ordered in a low whisper.
“I need to question him. As soon as you’re able, return here to continue your watch. ”
The men nodded understanding as they tied the man’s wrists and gagged him before dragging him from the garden. Oddly, the man didn’t appear to resist in any way.
Once he was certain the threat was fully contained, Phin tucked Claudia back into his boot and turned to Eleanor. She still stood with the curved blade clasped in both hands, angled outward, her gown softly glowing in the moonlight, her eyes intent on him.
Phin smiled. “Well done.”
Her lashes flickered as she met his gaze. But she didn’t lower the weapon even when he spread his open hands and started toward her.
“The danger is over, sweetheart,” he continued in a soothing tone. “You can lower the blade.”
She didn’t. And her voice came out surprisingly calm and strong when she asked, “Was that the same man from Vauxhall?”
“I think so.”
“Why was he here? Why are you here?”
There was a sharp note of accusation in her tone.
Phin sighed. “If you put that thing down, we can talk about it.”
She stared back at him in silent consideration.
Fearful that the intruder might have friends nearby, Phin wanted to rush her into the house.
Back to safety. His blood hummed with adrenaline from the brief fight and the hyper-awareness that the darkness around them could hold more threats.
But he held still. After such an experience, it was important that she be allowed to regain some control and power over her environment. If she told him to leave, he would.
To a discreet and watchful distance, of course.
After a moment, she lowered the sword to one side, but she did not relinquish possession of it. “Fine,” she said simply. “But not here. Come with me.”
Turning away, she started back toward the house. Phin found himself deeply impressed by her self-possession. He knew that she struggled with shyness and extreme anxiety in social situations. But this—getting attacked in her own private garden—apparently barely phased the woman.
Phin took an extra moment to listen for any subtle indication that a threat still lingered. With his men taking care of the intruder, the house was left unguarded for the moment.
Until replacements were in place, he wouldn’t be leaving the lady’s side.
“Quiet,” she whispered from the darkness ahead of him. “Follow me.” Then she stepped silently through the large casement window into the room.
He could just barely perceive her outline ahead of him as his eyes tried to adjust to the loss of moonlight.
But she clearly didn’t need to see her way as she continued easily and confidently forward.
After several steps, she reached a door.
Opening it only a crack to reveal a dimly lit hall, she paused to ensure there was no one beyond.
Then she turned back with a finger pressed to her lips before she waved him after her.
From there she led him down the hall then up a narrow servants’ stairway.
On the second level, she turned down another hallway that he recognized from his prior visit before guiding him through the second door into a small sitting room lit by a few candles.
It smelled of her—vanilla and cinnamon. More than that, it contained the very essence of her. Warm, soft, alluring.
Phin stood still as she secured the door behind them. The intimacy of the room was unexpected. That she’d trusted him enough to bring him to her personal rooms was…rather astounding. And, he feared, undeserved.
“There,” she said softly as she walked past him into the room.
“Now we may talk freely. My parents are not currently in residence, but the servants are well-trained to report anything untoward directly to my father. Though they are all likely asleep at this hour and apparently weren’t awoken by the disturbance outside, I wouldn’t wish to take any chances of being overheard.
We can be assured they wouldn’t venture to these rooms unless I were to call for them. ”
As she spoke, she walked to the fireplace. After propping the scimitar against the carved, marble hearth, she gently stirred the low-burning coals back to greater life. Then she folded her arms over her chest as she turned back to face him.
For all her poise and self-command, Phin got the sense that she’d been talking as a way to ease some level of discomfort. Whether it was due to the attack or his presence in her room he couldn’t be certain.
Especially when her cheeks darkened to a dusky rose the moment she met his even stare.
Then she tilted her head. “Who was that man?”
Phin cleared his throat and strode toward the windows. “That is something I intend to find out.”
“I assume he is either the same man from Vauxhall or is associated with him,” she noted when Phin paused to scan the street below.
“I would assume so,” he muttered in response. He had noticed that the man was similarly dressed to the one who’d confronted them that night at Vauxhall.
“So, this has to do with the necklace.”
Phin nodded.
“Is that why you were here? And those others?” she asked, though she’d clearly already surmised the truth of it. “Are you watching me?”
“Watching out for you,” he corrected with a half smile.
“Hm,” she replied in a dubious tone. “How odd to have come to the conclusion that you surely must have left town—or perhaps even the country—only to discover you in my own garden.”
Her caustic tone was almost welcomed. He knew his recent disappearance would upset her.
He’d been wanting to explain that he was only doing what he thought he must to keep her safe.
That the last days had been horrid for not getting to see her, talk to her, touch her.
But first, she deserved to give him a severe set-down for his behavior.
Her dark eyes found and held his. “I worried about you, at first,” she said quietly.
“Worried that the danger you’d spoken of had gotten to you.
” Her jaw tightened. “But then I realized that if the Viscount Waring had been hurt in any way—or if he’d truly gone missing—I’d certainly have heard about it. ”
The accusation was back in her voice.
Phin bit his tongue and concentrated on keeping his feet planted on the carpet despite his burning desire to go to her.
“Turns out,” she noted with false lightness, “you were simply avoiding me. You’d gotten the information you were after and decided I was no longer useful to you. Is that it?”
He was already shaking his head. “No,” he said firmly, his voice a rough growl, as soon as she finished. He couldn’t keep himself from stepping toward her. “I was trying to protect you.”
She rolled her eyes, but he could see a hint of moisture in them. “You’ve done a fine job,” she retorted with a glance to the scimitar.
Reaching her, Phin, gently grasped her upper arms. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking into her heavy gaze.
“I’d received another threat when I returned home after viewing your grandmother’s book.
It specifically warned against spending time with you.
I didn’t want to risk it. Risk you,” he whispered.
“I made a huge mistake by dragging you into this mess. I cannot allow you to be hurt.”
She listened to him with a stern expression. “You could’ve advised me of that much sooner. I’ve a right to know that a threat has been made against me.”
Phin nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Just when he thought he detected a softening in her gaze, she lowered her lashes.
Then she gasped. “You’re hurt.”
Unfolding her arms, she reached for his forearm where blood was seeping through the slice in his sleeve.
“It’s just a scratch.”
She flashed him a frustrated glance. “And it must be tended. Sit.”
She nodded toward the sofa, then left the room in long strides, exiting through an inner door to the room beyond. She was so quick, he barely had a chance to shed his coat before she returned with a wet cloth.
“Sit,” she repeated firmly.
Phin carefully draped his coat over the arm of the sofa to prevent any of the blood from touching the fine upholstery, then did as she ordered. She sat on the small tea table across from him and waited as he rolled up his shirtsleeve to reveal the gash across his arm.
It was as he’d said. Just a scratch that had already stopped bleeding.
“See,” he noted with a grin. “Nothing to worry about.”
She gave a soft harrumph and slapped the wet cloth on it.
He got the oddest sense that she’d wanted the injury to be worse. As punishment for his abandonment? Or was she disappointed she couldn’t take a greater role in caring for him?
He hoped it was the latter. But suspected the former.
After wiping away the dried blood, he glanced up to see her staring at him. Her expression was pensive and focused. Her brows dipped slightly over her steady gaze and the line of her jaw was set in a firm line.
He couldn’t help but think of how lovely she looked and for a moment, he almost reached out to feel the texture of her gleaming hair as it rested over her shoulder in the loose plait.
“I’d like to be there when you question him.”
The shock of her statement made him flinch and sharpened his tone. “Not a chance.”
The lady lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze. “I insist.”
He scowled fiercely. “I cannot allow that.”